


Derek Hale is a Self-Rescuing Princess

by verity



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Birthday Party, M/M, Video & Computer Games, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-11
Updated: 2012-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:32:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verity/pseuds/verity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek play Mario Kart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Hale is a Self-Rescuing Princess

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to **etothepii** for the video game consult and **sophia_sol** for the once-over.  <3

It was Isaac's birthday, which didn't actually explain why Stiles had been playing Mario Kart with Derek for the last hour.

Okay, at first, he was playing with Isaac and Erica and Scott, because it used to be Scott's favorite game back when he was really terrible at it and before he got the werewolfy hand-eye coordination that made everything but strategy games like not even worth playing. (Stiles could still whoop Scott's ass at Risk. But not Allison's.) Predictably, everyone got bored within 15 minutes, including Stiles, because he'd been kicking ass with Yoshi since he was eight, thank you. Then the werewolves went off to play soccer in the backyard, and Allison and Lydia went outside to drink iced tea and stare at all the rippling manflesh, and Stiles was left in Isaac's house with the Wii and four empty bags of Doritos. And Derek.

"You're not playing soccer?" Stiles said, sitting his Wiimote on the coffee table. "Do you have some freaky alpha aversion to sunlight and innocent fun and Erica in a halter top? Or would it just interfere with the whole creepy lurker with a dark past vibe you have going on? By the way, living in an actual house with a working washer and dryer is really hampering your cred there, dude."

"I think it's the dishwasher." Derek was hovering over the table, which looked like a pack of werewolves had attacked the full takeout menu of Ming Wei's as well as two ice cream cakes, probably because that had happened. Allison ate a slice of the cake and Lydia ate some lo mein and Stiles managed to get a full serving of the sweet and sour chicken before Boyd ate it all, but the rest of the damage was all werewolf. And now Derek was… cleaning it up? Holy shit, he was actually scraping the last of the moo goo gai pan into a Tupperware container, real Tupperware with one of those lids you were supposed to burp.

"The party's not over," Stiles said. "You could come play Wii or something."

Derek's eyes did that shifty thing they always did when he was trying to cover up his complete lack of experience or, like, leadership ability. "I don't do video games," he said.

"You said that about text messaging," Stiles reminded him.

"I don't do text messaging," Derek said. It was sort of true, even though the pack had made him get a phone with a keyboard and everything. He never replied, but he did turn up when Stiles texted him about a crisis, and he got pissed off that time Stiles accidentally sent him instead of Scott a dire warning about the history test the next day.

"It's a Wii," Stiles said. " _Mrs. McCall_ can play this. She slaughtered us at tennis last week, it was a bloodbath. So I'm totally handing you my ass here." Okay, that came out kind of wrong. But it was a _metaphor_ , and Derek usually only pretended not to get those.

"Fine." Derek caught the Wiimote easily when Stiles tossed it to him, even though Stiles's aim was more in the direction of the planter by the window than Derek. Yeah, he was totally going to own Stiles's ass.

But that was okay. Stiles was taking one for the pack. He was taking one for the team.

"Why am I a princess?" Derek said when the game loaded again.

"Oh, I guess that was Isaac's Wiimote. Is that threatening your masculinity?"

"Why are you a turtle?"

" _Okay_ ," Stiles said, dragging the word out. "Did your parents not let you have TV or something?"

Derek got that tragic, constipated look he always got when someone asked him about his dead family. "No." He cleared his throat. "We read a lot of books, and played outside, mostly."

"Ah," Stiles said.

"I can be a princess," Derek said. "It's fine."

Stiles and Scott used to play Mario Kart and Super Smash Brothers all the time before they were old enough that Stiles's dad would let them play first person shooters. It was a good balance: Scott was better at Super Smash Brothers, because if you played Link you could more or less mash buttons and not die horribly, but Stiles was better at Mario Kart, which required actual steering. Previously, he'd always thought it was one of those games that was about a four out of ten in difficulty, where ten was QWOP and zero was Pokémon Snap. 

Stiles wasn't aware it was possible to be _this bad_ at a game aimed at third graders.

"It's the banana peels," Derek said. "I can't avoid them."

"You'll get the hang of it," Stiles said, for the eighth time in the last ten minutes. "Promise. It's not that hard. Or we could try bowling."

"I don't like bowling," Derek said, for the eighth time in the last ten minutes. Not that Stiles was counting.

"You don't like bowling or you don't do bowling?" Yoshi turned easily around the curve as Princess Peach ran straight into a palm tree yet again. "Because I'm starting to get the impression that these are different things."

"Laura liked bowling." Princess Peach came back to life. Her sad face looked a lot like Derek's. "She liked doing things she was good at. So, most things."

Stiles stretched out his legs in front of him; he'd been been sitting on his left foot and it was starting to go numb. "Who doesn't?"

"Easy stuff is boring." Derek narrowly avoided a turtle shell.

"So, is this some kind of allegory of your serious masochism issues, or are you actually enjoying playing this game? I think I lost track somewhere in there," Stiles said. Yoshi hit the finish line in first, but Stiles didn't feel the same zing of satisfaction he used to feel when he beat Scott by seven places.

"I'm just telling you," Derek said, still half a lap behind him.

"Right." Stiles leaned back against the couch, Wiimote dangling from his wrist. Derek was wedged up next to him, eyes still on the screen, determined. It was kind of cozy, and Stiles felt warm and full and sleepy, even though he'd only eaten half the Doritos he wanted and also he'd totally owned Derek at Mario Kart. "Hey, you made it," he said when Princess Peach crossed the finish line. "You're totally getting better at this."

"You think?" Derek said.

"You hit way less banana peels that time."

"It was less horrible," Derek agreed.

"You're less horrible," Stiles said. "You know. Generally."

"Do you think it's the dishwasher?" Derek said, setting the Wiimote down on his lap. 

Derek had the worst sense of humor Stiles had ever encountered, and Stiles was deeply uncertain about whether or not he'd be even marginally competent at Pokémon Snap. But he also liked playing Mario Kart badly as Princess Peach and tried really hard to be a good alpha even though he was terrible at it, and he didn't get offended at Stiles's jokes about him being a creeper anymore, and they were mostly jokes, so. Also, he was really hot, and smelled nice.

"You could go run around with the rest of your hot shirtless werewolf pack now," Stiles said. "Since we've done the thing where you process your trauma and take it out on video games. Or we could try Mario Party, I think Isaac has a copy."

"Okay," Derek said, not moving. Or, he did move a little bit, so he was leaning on Stiles, which was—huh.

"Or we could play more Mario Kart," Stiles said, bumping his foot against Derek's.

"Sounds good," Derek said.


End file.
